


Life in Transit

by lovelylittleavocado



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Future Fic, I'm trying really hard with it ya feel, M/M, Victor is an A+ boyfriend, Yuuri sounds a little robotic in the beginning, big old robots, but that's what I guess people would sound like without emotion, even in the future, poor Yuuri is still so easily flustered, so I hope its okay, this is my first Yuri on Ice fic!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelylittleavocado/pseuds/lovelylittleavocado
Summary: The year is 2072 and the world has decided to move toward one government and one mind. People have been cleansed of emotion, and the world has been cleansed of anything that would incite it. They say this is all for the benefit of humanity, and that isn’t a problem for Yuuri Katsuki. He finds life perfect, as though he’s a cog in a well-oiled machine. A gear with purpose in a grand clock. His life is sailing smoothly until the morning he finds his face on the sidewalk after tripping over an unexpected package, and soon he finds himself questioning whether this emotionless life really is for the better.





	1. Entry One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work inspired by one of my readings for a Russian Lit class, We by Yevgeny Zamyatin. I highly recommend reading it!!!

The following is a documentation formed with the intention of clarifying events having begun on this day. I will continue these entries as I see fit.

All events are factual and of the truth.

* * *

 

I was behind schedule by approximately 2 minutes, the amount of time it took me to collect my person from the pavement. These two minutes were, as I found, enough compiled time to lose my regular seat on the train. I usually sat in the first car, in the first seat on the far left, right beside a window. My reasoning for the choice of this particular seat is highly rational. Sitting near the front is logical for the timeliest exit, and the explanation for sitting beside the window is slightly more complex. I find the view of our glorious city from the train to be influential in relation to my work ethic. Not to say that I don’t enjoy my work as a mathematician. Numbers are, after all, the most logical of all worldly elements. However, I do find that, when I am able to recall the glossy surface of the buildings and the way they coordinate with the blinding rays of sunshine, I contain more motivation than without.

As I have previously stated, this was not a usual morning, and I did lose my seat. I found myself having to move three cars back, and upon my arrival in said car there were no available seats, let alone one positioned by a window. As I grabbed one of the many handrails I turned my head toward the door, deciding that If I was unable to sit beside a window I wouldn’t allow myself the satisfaction of looking out of one at all. Having written this I find that conclusion was illogical. I don’t know why I made it.

Staring at the door I made mental marks on each individual that entered and exited my newfound car. A small few stand out in my mind, but none so much as Victor. He stood tall, taller than the average size for a male in our region, and his hair was a glossy silver that reminded me of those smooth buildings I longed to view. Immediately I noticed that the style he chose to apply to his hair was far more… free, I suppose, than the standard our government upholds. Not so different that he would be arrested, but just enough to the point that when staring you may capture its natural motion. The way each strand seemed to move with intent, as if having its own consciousness. It moved me. I cannot explain this movement, save for it felt like an unsavory meal, when it rises in your stomach and you know it will escape sooner rather than later. 

He grabbed the same handrail that I was now holding tighter than necessary, my knuckles turning white under the stress. I looked at his chest and read his name-tag. _Victor._ An unusual name that I found distasteful sliding off of my tongue, but somehow still so fitting and pleasant. It was, and still is, a contradiction I am working to justifying.  As I reread his name within my head he noticed my eyes were transfixed upon him and he began a conversation.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you on this train before. Where did you come from?” He flashed a smile at me. It was quick, a flash of white teeth that resembled lightning, and I found my thoughts struggling to form any semblance of meaning.

“I – I, um, I came from home.”

This made him laugh, a sound that I can only liken to a sound I learned in school. At the time we were learning of bizarre beliefs practiced by our ancients, such savage beliefs, but ones that intrigued me none the less. They had buildings of worship for unknown beings, and some of these buildings contained large bells. Objects which chimed in harmony with time, ringing clearly for people to hear and liken to either the time to renew their “soul” or the time to return home.

Victor laughed like a bell, ringing out with a clarity that set my mind at ease. He didn’t pursue a conversation further, and I found myself… disappointed, in this fact. I felt as though a conversation with him would have been pleasant, maybe even more so than a seat by the window.

I have decided to stand in the third car tomorrow.

I must end here, our designated period of rest has commenced.


	2. Entry Two

“It’s pleasant to see you here.”

I found no harm in the statement, but one of his eyebrows cocked up in surprise, so I assumed I had made some error in my approach. I also found it immensely fascinating that he would so freely let expressions play upon his face. Expressions that, even if I tried, I could not imitate.

“It would be most unfortunate if I’ve offended, it wasn’t my intent I can assure yo- “

“No no. No offense. I’m just, I don’t know, taken aback that you would incite a conversation. This isn’t a normal incident for any one of us, let alone me.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have stepped out of the norm. I apologize.”

Something happened to me then. I felt a burning sensation rise from my neck until it settled into my cheeks. I found my eyes tracing the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with this man who I remembered was a stranger to me. It was not my place to speak to him. As I avoided his gaze he leaned in close to me, so close I could feel his breath as it breached the collar of my shirt. It grew warmer with each word he spoke, and I wanted to let my eyes slide closed. His voice traveled softly, and I knew his words were for my ears alone.

“Yuuri, I think you and I should talk. Would you like to go for a walk with me in your free hour tomorrow?”

I felt my heart beat increasing, racing as if it were trying to keep pace with our train. My body was reacting to his suggestion faster than my thoughts were capable of.

“You know my name?”

He let out a small breath, a sigh, partnered with a smile.

“We wear name-tags Yuuri. I read it. Unless you’ve stolen this uniform?”

I could feel my expression contort, and this had Victor laughing again. Louder today than yesterday, and it drew the attention of fellow passengers. This sobered me, but not Victor. He was still smiling, still glowing from the burst of emotions he had expressed. I knew, although I can’t justify this knowledge, that he had that joy residing inside of him still. It’s like a math equation, even though you’ve solved it and it’s done, the answer still has an effect for something you’re working on. He was still reeling in the effect. I was at that moment in time, and I still am now, curious as to how he learned these things. These emotions. They had been removed so long ago, and they’re so primitive. So unnecessary. But I find that, when I think back on him and how those emotions looked, I want to be a part of. He makes them appealing beyond what my vocabulary is capable of describing.

I agreed to meet him tomorrow, at the entrance to the walking park.

As a side note, I realized in reading my first entry that I did not clarify why it was necessary to collect myself from the pavement yesterday. I had fallen over a small square box, a package which had been dropped in front of my door. This has never happened to me. After opening it during my free hour I found that inside there was a single card, an invitation to the opening of a new museum dedicated to the 20th century of our ancients. I intend to accept, seeing as this invitation could only have been bestowed upon me by our glorious government.

I would enjoy, I believe, inviting Victor to accompany me.


	3. Entry Three

I cannot believe – it was beyond my comprehension that – a moment to pause. Let me collect my thoughts. I’ll start from the beginning.

It had never occurred to me until a fellow mathematician pointed it out. The government may use my records as teaching material when they explore the outer reaching beyond our great walls, granting civilizations their benevolence. Bearing this in mind, I will explain some basic concepts to you (my unknown reader) as they become relevant to my recordings.

When the government, our fine One State, realized that emotions in their irrational natures were the root source of all issues, it did away with them. This included those parts of what our ancients would have considered “daily life”. Meals became regulated into a single gelatinous substance that contains every nutrient needed to sustain a human body, supplied three times a day at the scheduled hour. Homes were made, each in the same image of the most perfect square, stacked and aligned in symmetrical rows. And what of companions, you may ask? Family, friends, partners?

Family became irrelevant when children were each raised in the educational system from the moment they were born, each getting the same required amount of assistance and attention. Friends could be chosen, but one must register them at the Building of Personal Relations, so most realized doing so was a waste of personal hours on a trivial aspect of existence. That only left partners, of the most intimate kind. Those were selected by our One State, with everyone getting the appropriate partner to fit within their schedule. With the aspects of love and passion taken out of these elements, they become rather monotonous, and citizens are each scheduled two mandatory intimate moments with their partner a month.

I’m sure you, far away individual, must be somewhat intrigued as to who my partner is. I call her O, for that’s the noise she makes every time I enlighten her on a topic. I might say, “O, did you know that my most preferred number isn’t a number at all?” And she would reply “Ooo,” the shape of her mouth mimicking the letter I call her by. She’s not terrible, O, but she does on occasion cause me to believe that her mouth functions at least a full second faster than her brain. Another example; I might be walking with her during our free hour, which is not our permitted time for intimacy, and she will look up at me with her large brown eyes and say “I would enjoy if you were to kiss me, right this moment.” It’s simply outstanding! To think of breaking the guide of our meticulously planned lives!

But forgive me, I’ve drifted from my original intended entry.

I brought up relations because I met with Victor today. We strolled along one of the many walking trails, side by side, in silence. Instead of conversation he opted to take in our surroundings. I do not blame him for this, however. The walking trails are one of the few areas left in the city where plant life is allowed to grow, and in this current spring season many of the floral plants are in bloom. It's very pleasant for all senses.

Small particles of pollen had been passing through the air along with the breeze, seeking a new home. Some found their home on our lips, drying them out, and I would watch as every few minutes Victor’s tongue escaped to brush the pollen away. “Shall we take a seat on this bench?” His first words to me since we had met this afternoon. I nodded vigorously, and slowed down my motions as to not seem too eager to converse with him, but as we sat he simply sighed. No, conversation still didn’t seem to be on his mind. I watched intently as he tracked a small bee that was in the process of travelling from specimen to specimen, extracting what it needed to fulfill its assigned task.

“What elegant structure of design, wouldn’t you agree?”

“It’s not structure, it’s nature. The bee goes wherever it pleases, it’s unconstrained.” His words were sharp and harmful, a sting. “But then, you wouldn’t know these things, would you?” He took my hand, soft and soothing, sweet like honey. What was it about him that was so… mesmerizing?

“Victor, why did you ask me to come here?” His eyes left the bee in favor of my own then. Blue, like the crystalline glass of the city when it ensnares the sky.

“Why did you agree?” Behind that blue, it was like a home. His eyelids were the shades, drawn ever so slightly, masking what was happening in there. Covering up his secrets.

“I-I believe it’s obvious, isn’t it?” A flicker of a flame, there’s a roaring fire inside him, how does he keep it burning so?

“Is it obvious, Yuuri?” The stretch of the vowels across his tongue set pins across my spine, and this almost irritates me. Why was he doing this? Why had he, a stranger on our public transit, asked this of me?

And then his lips were upon my knuckles, and I found myself recalling the dry pollen and the licking it took to be rid of it.

Suddenly my hand was retracted, frozen in midair alongside my shocked expression.

“What do you think you’re doing?! This is not – and you’re not even assigned – that is out of code!” He smiled, that broad stretching smile that turned in at the bow of his lip. “Why Yuuri, you almost seem angry.” Was I? I felt my chest beating rapidly, felt the same heat across my neck and my face, only this time it was far less pleasant. Before I knew it my feet were carrying me home, and as I shut the door behind me I could feel myself breathe again. I hadn’t been aware that I had stopped. Time seemed to fly, my body seemed to melt, these irrational things being thrust at me by _him._ I wouldn’t let the name cross my mind. He would not have his way.

But, even as I write this, I still see his cat-like grin, his lips, powdered with pollen, dripping with honey.


End file.
